


Rest

by marlowe78



Series: Wake up-verse [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Exhaustion, Gen, death of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlowe78/pseuds/marlowe78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They need to rest. One of them eternally. 1st Timestamp for the "Wake up and run"-verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest

Miges away from the house, Jensen can’t go on anymore.

His body, mistreated for so long and even though strong and surprisingly resilient, is not the one his newly awakened mind is used to. He can’t force it to do as Lieutenant Ackles could force his, and it just … stops.

Goes on strike and he can’t take even one more step, too tired, too worn out to even drop down. He’d been listening to Jared follow him a few skittrichs behind, stumbling and panting more and more but still following. Now, his friend is at his side and gazes at him, seems to be awaiting some kind of command, a direction to go or even a dismissal.

But Jensen can’t. He just… can’t. He stands, swaying like an already cut tree that just needs that one, final push to follow gravity, Tim’s skinny legs clutched against his sides, his thin arms thrown over his shoulder where they had been clinging to the uniform for some time now.

“Twotw- uh… Jensen?”

He can’t even comprehend what it is he’s supposed to do now, after Jared has spoken. Should he do something?

“Jensen, c’mon, gimme the kid and lets rest”

Jensen can feel a gentle hand at his shoulder, and apparently his body has some strength left after all, since he flinches violently. But the hand stays, isn’t hurting, and he releases the white-knuckled grasp on the kid, lets him be taken down and sat to the needle-covered ground.

“Jensen, come, sit”

The hand touches again but he doesn’t jerk away this time, lets the hand lead him to a nearby tree and a little bit of pressure has him dropping, sagging and finally falling, groaning when his body touches the soft forest-floor. Without any impetus from his brain, it curls into a ball and falls into a deep, dark sleep.

When he wakes, he can hear someone sniffing.

Silent snuffles and the occasional sound of bare skin sliding under a dripping nose. It’s a little disgusting, but Jensen remembers what came before he fell asleep and the only people who could possibly be responsible for the snuffle are Jared or Tim. If it’s Tim, it’d be a good thing, would show his spirit may be returning. If it’s Jared, it’d probably be bad.

“Hm?” he asks, not coherent right now and opens his eyes. It’s still – or again? – twilight, and he can see Jared sitting with his back to him, moving swiftly and trying to remove every trace of having cried.

It hurts a little. They had been friends for a so long, even though Jensen was kinda someone else. That Jared would cover up something that hasn’t ever bothered him before when they were together means that he sees their relationship differently now.

Jensen doesn’t want that.

“Jared?”

“Y-you’re awake?”

“yeah, wassup?”

“Uh...”

“Jay?”

“It’s…” Jared takes a deep breath, tries to brace himself but sags again and the sniffs get louder. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t face Jensen and so Jensen gets his protesting limps in order and shuffles over on his knees.

When he reaches his friend, though, it’s obvious that there is no hard blood or anything between them, that Jared didn’t not face him because he’s mad or something.

“I… I just fell asleep. Only for a minute” Jay’s voice is broken and he sounds so lost, Jensen wants to hug him close and console him, rock him like a mother would her hurting child.

He is not his mother, though, and he knows that there is no real consolation for this kind of pain except time.

“O- only for a minute. He- he- he was sleeping. I was sure he ‘s only sleeping, I swear…”

Jared’s got Tim in his arms, the tiny boy pale and still in the fading light. He wouldn’t look much different from sleep if it weren’t for his eyes. Sightlessly, they stare into the sky, and Jensen feels an unexpected pang of guilt. Guilt for wanting to leave the boy in that hell-house, for nearly letting him die there.

“Jay…”

“Don’t... don’t say it, ok?” Jared begs, and he looks so miserable that Jensen would do anything right this minute to take away that sadness from his friend.

“Say what?”

“‘I told you so’”

“I’d never…” but he stops himself. Not because he’d be lying, no. He stops because Jared has no way of knowing that Jensen Ackles wouldn’t say that, of confirming his spoken words. They are still friends, at least from Jensen’s point of view and he’s hoping from Jay’s too, but the truths from before they ran are invalid now. “Come on. Let’s… let’s get him to rest”

He takes the kid from Jared, not getting any resistance as he’d feared, and takes him over to the place by the tree where he’d been sleeping before. He puts the body down, making him comfortable even in death and unclasps the guard’s robe to lay over the child. He’s done this so often, couldn’t do it for his own men when their time came, but he’d done it to comrades in battle too often to count. It’s always regret that fills him, the last honor to a fallen friend, the one thing he couldn’t ever do to the people who really counted.

His parents, siblings. His men. His girl.

“Let’s find a stone, or a branch to dig, ok?” He’s glad that Jared doesn’t comment on his voice and just nods.

They don’t have much time, so the grave is shallower than it should be. But it’ll be ok, Jensen thinks, the boy won’t mind. And Jared seems just glad that they do something for the little one, something good, apart from doing the most important thing of taking him with.

“Let me?” Jared asks, and Jensen steps aside to give his friend room to move the dead boy into the grave. When he steps back, though, Jensen sees the kid in the position of the Sleeper, the traditional corpse-pose for household slaves that were dear to their owners. That won’t do, Jensen thinks and kneels down, repositioning the stiffening limbs.

When he’s finished, Tim lies in the pose of the Waker, as a free man should be buried in. Facing up instead of sideways, hands crossed in front of his chest instead of placed under his head, it shows the deceased doesn’t have to fear death since eternal reward will await him.

“It wasn’t death he feared” he explains as he sees Jared’s raised eyebrow “and he died a free man.” be free he adds mentally, but knows he doesn’t have to say it loud.

Jared smiles and nods, then silently, with tearstains over his cheeks, starts to bury his little friend. It’s a job he wants to do alone, Jensen can see, and he has done it enough times to leave it to Jared gladly.

All his muscles, his joints and tendons and even his fucking skin itch and burn and ache and complain at him for the mistreatment he put them through. He feels like he usually does after a session with the Mistress, rare as they are. Were.

Angela was some kind of higher executive, Jensen – Twotwentynine – never got the exact title and neither did he care then nor is he interested now. She’d been busy most days, and whatever she did when she returned to her mansion is unknown to him. But every month, not regularly, she craved a slave. Telo had told him, spiteful smirk on his face, that she prefers the pretty ones, the ones with stamina who can survive for a while. Kids are broken so easily, Telo said, but every once in a while, she’d treat herself.

Anger burns in him, hot and clear. To think that Tim and the other boys had to suffer like he did, maybe worse even makes him want to go back in time and show her just what it feels like to be on the receiving end of her cruelty.

He can’t, timetravel is not something you mess with. It usually leads to more harm than what you want to fix, which is why they banned it and destroyed most if not all of the instructions on how to do it.

“Jensen?” Jared yanks him out of a pleasant fantasy where Angela is begging him for mercy. He looks at him a little shy, and it’s such a strange look on his friend that he takes him in more closely.

The young man is pale, more than usual. The burns on his arms from the oven and from the hot oil that sometimes spattered on him stand out, a darker shade now when usually they appear white on Jared’s naturally dark taint.

His eyes are red-rimmed from crying and carry bags from exhaustion, he looks like a palay-bear does with its mask of dark fur on its face and it makes Jared look like a seven-sectem old instead of a grown man. His whole body is trembling slightly, and suddenly Jensen realizes that it’s cold, they are in a forest and Jared is only wearing the loincloth of his slave-status.

“Shit” he murmurs, and takes off his padded vest, then the shirt which he gives to his friend. “Here, take this, you’ll catch your death”

“Thanks” Jared says, and dresses awkwardly, reminding Jensen that the boy – man – never ever wore clothes in his life. It makes his blood boil to think about someone caging this free spirit, nearly letting it expire in captivity. “Uhm… can I ask you something?”

“We should be moving” Jensen says, not really comfortable anymore. He wants… he doesn’t know what he wants. He wants his friend back, the one he knew before, and he wants to have his own life back at the same time. He wants to kill things, something, someone but what he doesn’t want is to talk.

“We’ve run so long, a little while more won’t hurt. And you’re … you’re exhausted, Two- Jensen. Me, too,” he adds just when Jensen wants to say that he’s fine. Oh yeah, he still got his number, he thinks with a weary grin. First, it was Jeff who played him like that, then his men and his girl did too. Apparently, everyone who’s around him notices that he doesn’t give a shit about his own body but would break all rules for the ones he cares about.

And he knows that he cares too fucking much.

“Fine” he growls, and Twotwentynine sags gratefully once more. If Jensen would dare to be honest, he’d admit that he really has reached his limit. And if he’s feeling like this, Jared must feel worse. The former kitchen-slave never had to jog, run, dodge and weave like he had in training, and everything that sprang back into Jensen’s mind and instinct has to take an effort for Jay.

They both lean against a big burnip-tree, the soft bark giving them more comfort than their slave-beds ever did. They sit next to each other, Tim’s grave behind them and a valley full of green and blue and yellow tree-tops spreading in front. Nobody is looking at the other, and that’s how it’s possible for Jensen to answer. It’s always been like this, even with Grit. The truths and honest answers came only in darkness, or without eye-contact from him. Jensen never cared to examine it, but he’s sure Maron, the psychiatrist would have an answer. If he’s still alive. If anyone of his friends is still alive…

“So… uhm, who are you?” Jared asks tentatively, and oh, that’s a good question. Jensen sticks with the basics, though.

“Jensen. Jensen Ackles. I’m from Chalagria. Balrota“ he adds, because he doesn’t really know if he’s still on the same planet. It feels like he is, but he’s not sure at all.

“Oh. Ok”

Jensen sighs. It’s probably a bit unfair to let Jared drag everything out of him. His friend hasn’t ever been the prying kind. “I was – am still, I guess? – First Lieutenant of the Resistance. The captured me and my” he swallows “my unit. Killed the men, sold the women. Sold me too”

He knows why they didn’t kill him, the Trainer had told him more often than he wants to remember. He’s sure Jared can figure it out himself, because he’s not telling him that.

“Why” Jay whispers “why didn’t you tell me before?” He sounds so scared and small, Jensen can’t help but turn around, face him.

“Jay, I couldn’t. I didn’t remember.”

“Yeah, sure” Jared scoffs, and that hurts. Hurts really bad, a sharp pain in his stomach and insides, like someone dug inside and tried to drag his organs out. He actually knows how that feels, thanks to Angela. Twotwentynine is crying inside, on his knees and begging Jared to believe him, to take him back, to hug him and make it better.

But he’s not the slave anymore, and even if Jared would do that, it wouldn’t resolve anything. “They cracked my scull, during Basic Slavetraining” he says, because he has to at least try to make Jared believe him. “I don’t remember much after that, just when I got to Lagoran. I- I don’t even remember meeting you” he admits. It’s true, but he isn’t sure if Jared would believe him.

“Oh” is all Jay says.

“I dunno how to make you believe me, but I swear it’s the truth. I only remembered who I am today –“ he stops, looks around the darkening forest “or yesterday, I suppose”

“So that’s why you didn’t have a name” his friend muses and Jensen lets his hope rise a little.

“I guess.” He never thought about it, but now that Jared mentions it… all the other slaves had names. They called each other by them, even though the Master and Mistress never bothered, only ever referring to their numbers that’s burned into their backs, left and right of the spine.

Jared is Twoeighteen, but nobody ever called him that. Nobody ever called Twotwentynine ‘Jensen’, and for a second he thinks if maybe Lagoran never knew his real name.

He dismisses it, though, remembers the fat man and his spindly wife checking the merchandise during Public Display. They probably didn’t want him to remember.

“So… you’re a soldier?”

“Kinda”

“And… why did you take me with you? I don’t know anything, I never even left the kitchen. And I don’t remember much from my other homes…”

“No!” Jensen interjects. “No, it’s not that” Holy, is Jared thinking that he freed him for information? “Jay, please, please don’t think that. You’re my friend. I remember you, everything about you. You’re…” he stops. It’s gonna get terribly emo if he doesn’t.

“I what?” Jay, though, doesn’t let it slide

“You made it better” Jensen looks away, completely turns his back to Jared. He’s not used to admitting so much, knows that Twotwentynine had no such problems even though he never spoke. “You made it bearable to be alive”

He feels Jay’s hand on his arm, shivers at the sudden warmth on the cold skin. “Is it so horrible to be alive?”

“Sometimes”

They sit in silence, resting. Letting their aching limps get a reprise for now, before they have to get on with their escape. They’re not safe yet.

He feels Jay smile, even though he can’t see it, and his friend turns around and reaches out his hand. “Hello. My name is Jared. I’m a former kitchen-slave. I’d like to travel with you for a while”

It takes a moment to get it, but when he does, Jensen smiles as well. “Hello. I’m Jensen and I’m not sure exactly what I am anymore. But I’d like to take you with me, for as long as you want”


End file.
